


Waiting Game

by Anonymous



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: AU, Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, its all the good stuff ygm, sappy towards the end bc why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 09:11:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17342576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: All month long, Lewis has avoided him, and it’s all Sips can do not to barge his way into the labs and shove Lewis over his own desk then and there. It's not like they're exclusive or anything, but goddamn if Lewis's little display is getting on his nerves...





	Waiting Game

**Author's Note:**

> Another scene from that au. Can you tell I love these two?

All month long, Lewis has avoided him - or rather, he’s coyly spurned every one of Sips’ advances with such infuriatingly irresistible grace, it’s all Sips can do not to barge his way into the labs and shove Lewis over his own desk then and there. He’s not unused to these little displays, and it’s not as though Sips wants for company in his absence. They’re not exclusive - that’s not how this works. But then Lewis isn’t usually so terrible a tease, tends to give in after a week at most. It’s the principle of the matter, and that Lewis thinks he can get away with not only holding out this long but letting Sips know _he_ knows exactly how frustrating this is? With every lingering touch and chaste kiss when they happen upon each other at the Red Shift? Hell, Red Night he’d smirked Sips up and down with a ruby pout and half lidded eyes as if daring him to make a move, and had the room been a little less crowded, Sips certainly would have delighted in shoving Lewis to his knees and smearing that make up all across his smug face. Such are the fantasies he’s had to content himself with as Lewis continues to flaunt his chastity.

 

Such are the ones he will indulge tonight, Lewis finally caving and accepting invitation to his flat, and though he hasn’t a plan altogether - there’s no accounting for much of anything he wants for the evening - whatever gets Lewis’s mouth around his dick the fastest is more than fine by him. And the best part is knowing how much Lewis is going to beg for just that.

 

Of course, the pretense, the little game to play when Lewis first arrives - clad in casual dress and radiating smarm like he’s daubed it on for cologne - pretending they both don’t know precisely what this is about and what is to proceed their niceties.

 

“Sorry I haven’t been available much,” Lewis says, lounging himself on one of three leather chaises in the living room. Sips, meanwhile, prepares them both drinks and tries not to laugh at the bold faced lie.

 

“You’re a busy guy,” he says instead. “I get that.”

 

“Oh I haven’t been very busy,” Lewis says, accepting the drink Sips offers with a loose wrist and lax fingers, the crystal tumbler courting gravity as he brings it to his lips and swallows the double shot of gin in one pull.

 

Sips watches the bob of his throat from the safety of periphery - too close and he’ll want to ravage the bastard right here. But he also doesn’t want to miss a damn second of the show. Lewis is damn irritating, damn gorgeous, and damn good at this, and it’s precisely why Sips likes him so _damn_ much.

 

“Just not in the mood for me, then, huh?” He asks.

 

Very obviously, he takes stance directly in front of Lewis, shoulders squared, legs rigid, head cocked as he nurses his whiskey.

 

“Mm, I wouldn’t say that,” Lewis smiles demurely up at Sips. His postures denotes nothing of anticipation, and Sips gathers his cool to appear as disinterested, a difficult feat when all he wants to do is wipe that smile from Lewis’s face.

 

But the conversation isn’t over, and he knows this.

 

“What would you say, then, big guy.”

 

Lewis blinks innocently and shrugs. “What do you want me to say?”

 

“An apology’d be a start.”

 

“Whatever for?”

 

“Think you know damn well.”

 

Lewis laughs, a small, clever huff of amusement hidden behind his free hand, before replying, “Suppose I do.”

 

And then, “I _have_ missed your cock down my throat, I will admit.”

 

Sips inhales sharply but schools his calm.

 

“Ain’t nobody stopping you right now,” he says, nearing a growl, and it sparks the space between their bodies, enough to prompt Lewis to sit better upright, lean forward, elbows on his knees.

 

“Suppose that’s true,” he says. “So what’s stopping _you_?”

 

“Never said anything was.”

 

“Would have expected you to fuck me over this couch already, then.”

 

“Cut me a break, big guy, I have some restraint.”

 

“Hmm, well what if I said I wanted you to?

 

“Do you?”

 

Without missing a beat - “Of course.” - and Sips grasps his collar in a fist, pulls him to his feet, and sets their faces close before the second has elapsed.

 

“Been fucking waiting t’hear that, _Xephos_.”

 

They kiss like a clash of wave to sand, Lewis easily relinquishing himself to Sips’ brutal grasp and lips and tongue, gasping for air Sips allows only the briefest pulls of.

 

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he seethes, carving a dull red precursor to purple with his teeth where Lewis’s pulse hammers frantic, desperate in his throat.

 

“I - I’d hoped so,” Lewis manages.

 

“Knew what you were getting yourself into, huh?”

 

“Absolu-lutely.”

 

“Good.”

 

Sips pulls away and levels a veritable glower.

 

“You know you’re gonna make up for it, right?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Anyway I want.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Sips grips his chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing his gaze.

 

“ _Good_ ,” he murmurs, and lets Lewis drop so prettily to his knees.

 

“That’s it,” he continues as Lewis works open the fastenings of his trousers. “Now open up.”

 

Lewis readily obeys, letting his jaw slack and groaning as Sips slowly fills his mouth.

 

“Just like that,” Sips breathes, and secures either side of Lewis’s head in a loose vice between his palms, enough that Lewis can pull away if he needs, but it’s just the right pressure to keep him still without too much effort.

 

Lewis hums his own contentment, tensing and relaxing his tongue in rhythmic undulations as Sips jerks his hips forward and glides to the back of his throat, guides Lewis’s head away - letting him scrape lightly with his teeth - and back again, as much using him as Lewis lets himself be used.

 

“Fuck…” and again, “ _fuck_.”

 

Lewis moans in response, his composure clinging to his person like the beads of sweat standing out on his brow, and Sips brushes his fingertips there, pushing back Lewis’s damp hair before grasping it in a tight fist.

 

“That’s it,” he says, his grip affording Lewis only a few inches leeway to pull his head away and steal a breath. “Almost - _fuck_ \- almost worth all your catty bullshit.”

 

As if seeking to prove apology, Lewis swallows to Sips’ naval and holds position for several agonizing seconds, gazing up with lust and remorse swimming in the tears gathered at the corners of his eyes - all beautiful, filthy penance.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Sips breathes, letting Lewis fall back to his heels and catch a ragged gasp.

 

“Shall I keep going?” He asks, a coy smile worn round his scratched voice, and Sips caresses his cheek, urges him forward again.

 

“Till I figure out what I’m gonna fuckin’ do to you,” he says, and Lewis - his hands now braced to Sips’ thighs - obediently parts his lips, sucking slow, languid strokes with his tongue along Sips’s cock.

 

It’s been too long since he’s felt that talented mouth, and Sips struggles to stymie the more unabashed of his groans and curses. Upon a strident hiss, he quite literally feels Lewis smile in response, bastard that he is.

 

“Think you’re cute, huh?” Sips forces Lewis away and his chin up so their gazes meet. Saliva has thoroughly dampened his goatee and around his swollen lips, his eyes similarly glistening, sweat misting everywhere else. Not ten minutes in and he already looks debauched.

 

“Do you?” Lewis teases, employing his hand now, and he lets his head fall sidelong, an expression of innocence playing his features. It could almost pass had he not seconds ago proven that smart mouth as useful a cunt as any. Nor does it help the fact he’s sat there jerking Sips off all the while. Fuckin’ _bastard_.

 

“I think you need t’learn your damn place,” Sips says.

 

“Hmm…” Lewis hums, nibbling his lower lip as he grins. “Make me.”

 

“Happy to,” Sips growls, and hauls Lewis to his feet again, swallowing his surprised laughter in a heated kiss.

 

“Here or - or the bedroom,” Lewis sighs when at last they break apart.

 

“Bedroom,” Sips says, and despite the discomfort, amends the state of his trousers if only because stumbling dick out through the apartment doesn’t appeal overmuch. Even he doesn’t possess enough confidence for that.

 

“Lead the way, then,” Lewis goads, sweeping his hand in an invitational gesture, and suddenly the few meters to the bedroom yawn a mile, Sips all too eager to shove him to his hands and knees right here.

 

He strikes compromise with the impulse, instead wordlessly grasping Lewis by the waist and hoisting him up and over his shoulder. What height Lewis has compares little to his meager weight, and Sips is strong enough to begin with, so Lewis practically drapes across his back.

 

“Oh, very cheeky,” he laughs, and then yelps as Sips smacks an open palm to his backside.

 

“Shut it,” Sips says, stifling his own amusement, which isn’t all too difficult as he shifts a better grip and in so doing feels _very_ distinctly Lewis’s excitement of the whole affair.

 

“Aw, I not paid you enough attention?” He jeers, casually running his fingers along Lewis’s inseam as he makes for the bedroom.

 

“Mm- _ah_ , n-no,” Lewis manages. “Definitely not.”

 

“Serves you right.”

 

“ _Nnhh_ , thought that was… was my job,” Lewis breathes.

 

“Oh it is, big guy,” Sips pauses at the foot of the bed to let him down.

 

“And you’re gonna prove it right now,” he continues, crowding close so Lewis’s knees are forced to give. He follows the motion, urging Lewis from a sitting position fully onto his back, and hunches on all fours over his prone form, arms boxing in his head, legs securing his hips.

 

To his infuriating merit, Lewis gazes up with half lidded eyes and a smirk to match.

 

“Rather like the sound of that,” he purrs, snaking a hand between their bodies to massage between Sips’ legs with his palm.

 

“Good,” Sips mutters.

 

Further conversation threatens to reveal the quaver building in his throat, so he opts for something a bit more forgiving, lowering his face to Lewis’s and kissing him softly. And then - as the minutes transpire and Lewis’s fingers fumble his trousers open again - not so softly, until a wreckage of groans and gasps fills the heavy air around them and Lewis _whines_ when Sips scrapes teeth to his throat.

 

“Oh fu- _uck_ ,” he stammers as Sips shoves his legs open with his knee, carefully grinding it upward, just shy of satisfying.

 

His face buried in the crook of Lewis’s shoulder, Sips can’t see the mess he’s making, but the hand around his cock loses rhythm several times. Finally, it stills altogether, and Sips stamps a bite into the soft skin of Lewis’s throat.

 

“Did I tell you t’fuckin’ stop?”

 

Lewis whimpers but offers no retort, taking him in hand again with a much more diligent pace, and Sips lets falter his own ministrations to savor the faint rushes of building pleasure.

 

“Knew what you were doing, huh?” He murmurs, tracing his lips behind Lewis’s ear as he shoves his knee _hard_. “Maybe shoulda thought it through a little better.”

 

“I - _hah_ \- I - I -”

 

“Oh c’mon, smart guy, I know you can do better’n that.”

 

“F- _fuck_ ,” Lewis sighs, arching his hips upwards, clutching at Sips’ shoulders. “Fuck _please_.”

 

“Already?” Sips scoffs, jerking out of the awkward embrace so he can leer down at Lewis. “Fuck, man, thought you could hold out a little longer.”

 

“You’re h-horrible,” Lewis manages, a furious blush painting his shame. Bright, beautiful evidence.

 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see how long you keep that up,” Sips says and, righting himself, rolls off of Lewis and kneels beside him, setting to work divesting his trousers. When the task is complete, he catches Lewis’s hungry stare and motions to the bedside table.

 

“Go on,” he says, and watches, bemused, as Lewis hastens to obey.

 

His grin eclipses his canines when Lewis only hands him the lube.

 

“Bareback, huh?” He teases, and Lewis flushes miserably.

 

“Don’t be like that,” Sips continues. “Brought this on yourself, remember?”

 

When Lewis doesn’t respond, Sips seizes his chin in a fast grip and forces his gaze.

 

“Tell me how much you want this,” he demands, and what inhibitions Lewis still possessed roll off of him in waves of defeat.

 

“I want you,” he murmurs, inhaling sharply as Sips works at his belt with his free hand.

 

“Mhm, and whaddya want me to do, big guy?”

 

He shuffles the band of Lewis’s trousers to mid thigh, briefs to follow, and teases his cock with feather light strokes.

 

“Just - _ah_ \- ple _-ease_ just fuck me,” Lewis stammers.

 

“Hands and knees,” is all Sips says, his blood hot through his veins, Lewis’s total submission never failing to drive him insane.

 

Within seconds, Lewis has grabbed a pillow and assumed position, head propped on the pillow, arms curled around it, ass in the air - it’s a goddamn sight every time.

 

Fingers first, of course, and Sips is immediately brutal, shoving in two at once and earning a strangled cry.

 

“Love that don’t you,” he says, dripping more and more lube until three can glide in with ease. “Y’know I could probably just keep you on edge for a while, get you really begging.”

 

“F-fuckin’ _hell_ ,” Lewis gasps, keening as Sips curls his fingers.

 

“That’a yes?”

 

“S- _Sips_ …”

 

“Aw, c’mon, can’t hold out just a little? Or you need my dick that badly.”

 

“Sips, _please_.”

 

The threats are empty, of course. Hell, Sips isn’t even sure he could hold out, himself - not after a month, especially now with Lewis offering himself like this, Jesus _Christ_. Not that he’ll let on, god knows what that would do to Lewis’s ego, but he’s a master at playing it cool, and he hasn’t devolved to the hopelessly needy himself. Yet.

 

“Don’t think you’re in any position to make demands,” he says. “Gotta teach you some manners, huh?”

 

It’s cheesy as hell, but Lewis eats it up, whimpering into the pillow, nodding just this side of imperceptible.

 

“Good boy,” Sips purrs, curling his fingers as deep as he can one last time before removing them entirely.

 

Lewis knows better than to protest the loss of touch - knows what next to anticipate - but he keens all the same, and Sips strikes him again, a slight stinging blow to the back of his right thigh.

 

“You need to learn some fuckin’ patience,” he derides.

 

“S-sorry,” Lewis begins, cutting himself off with a moan and Sips takes position behind him.

 

“Better be,” Sips says, and slowly, slowly pushes in.

 

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Lewis exhales, afforded little reprieve as Sips wastes no time in waiting. He sets a docile pace that will never satisfy either of them to an end, but he can endure a little torment if it makes Lewis squirm.

 

“Sips, _please_ ,” he pants, rocking his hips back to meet Sips’ languid thrusts.

 

Sips allows it for the briefest rush of pleasure, always enjoys watching himself slide in and out of Lewis as he takes initiative, but too much and Lewis will think he’s gained some upper hand in this, and Sips ruins that possibility with his own, abruptly landing another smack to Lewis’s ass, gripping vice like fingers to the resulting reddening skin.

 

“Really think you can make demands, huh?” He says, pressing their hips flush and then ceasing all movement. “String me along and get me t’fuck you whenever’s convenient?”

 

“N-no, I don’t,” Lewis whimpers.

 

“Mm, think you _do_ , though,” Sips continues. “Wouldn’t act up like this, otherwise. Either that or you _like_ being told what a fuckin’ slut you are. Like t’hear it for yourself, because you know you’re only good for taking cock and nothing else.”

 

Pulling back, he punctuates the accusation with a cruel thrust, and Lewis groans.

 

“Yeah, you fuckin’ love it.”

 

“ _Sips…_ ”

 

“Don’t wear it out yet, big guy, want you screaming my name by the time I’m done with you.”

 

Rarely does he indulge such sadism with his pleasure, but Lewis is a special case - tonight in particular, and Sips is all too happy to fuck every last thought of sedition from his mind.

 

“That’s it,” he encourages as Lewis stammers his way to hitched moans, perfectly rhythmic in their erratic desperation.

 

Shifting to accommodate a better angle, Sips nearly rolls his knee on the buckle of Lewis’s belt, the metal and expensive leather of it splayed out from the confining knot of the trousers tangled at his calves, and a deliciously devious idea occurs to him. And he _knows_ Lewis will love it - nasty as he is.

 

“Just need someone to show you your place, is all,” he says, as he extricates the belt with one hand, his other still gripped tight where he’d struck before.

 

Lewis mewls when once again Sips stills his hips, and this time dares to reach a hand below, between his legs.

 

Another blow to his thigh, the same place, and Sips rather thinks a hand print is starting to welt. It’s wonderingly effective, too, Lewis yelping but returning his hand to its desperate hold around the pillow.

 

“You’ll learn,” Sips says, pulling back, nearly all the way out of Lewis, and slides back in again, just once to remind him exactly what he’s good for, that he brought this on himself, that he deserves all of it.

 

“Got every faith in you, big guy.”

 

He then leans forward, levies himself on his hands, hunched over Lewis so he can murmur behind his ear, “Let me know if it’s too much,” before testing the touch of the belt at his throat. There is no response, not verbally, the only sounds Lewis’s stifled gasp and the jangling of the metal clasp as Sips tentatively encircles the belt fully around, securing its ends in a lax fist. And he waits, moving his hips ever so slightly against Lewis, kissing the shell of his ear so softly, just waiting, waiting, waiting patiently-

 

“ _Please…_ ”

 

\- and it’s all he needs to hear, turning the careful pressure of his lips dangerously sharp as he rakes his teeth where leather hasn’t cinctured, tightening his hold of the belt and giving it a few firm tugs.

 

“Whatever you want,” he says, grinning a last time to the flushed skin of Lewis’s nape before righting himself, forcing Lewis to follow the motion fully onto his palms as he guides the belt like a lead.

 

“Exactly what you deserve,” Sip derides. “Tethered like a fuckin’ dog.”

 

“Y-yes,” Lewis gasps.

 

“Yes what?”

 

“I - I - I”

 

“Aw c’mon, big guy,” Sips teases, and jerks the belt, earning a pitiful sob.

 

“I de-deserve it,” Lewis finally manages. “Fuck, _fuck_ , please, Sips, I deserve this, you, a-all of it _please_.”

 

It’s always so goddamn beautiful when he breaks, no matter the iterated sentiment of his submission, it never fails to boil Sips’ pulse to a frenzy, and such obedience _deserves_ prompt reward.

“Well,” he pulls back, “can’t say no to that,” and slams in, forcing a gorgeous cry as Lewis’s spine curls low to the mattress.

 

What slack this affords the belt, Sips deftly amends, securing Lewis’s head at the angle of his ecstasy, wrapping his free arm around his waist for leverage as he thrusts without mercy.

 

“ _Fuck_ , you love this, don’t you,” he growls. “Love bein’ fuckin’ used.”

 

“Yes, _yes_ ,” Lewis rasps, his wrecked voice a fuel to the conflagration in Sips’s stomach, and he groans, burying his teeth in Lewis’s shoulder.

 

“ _Christ - ah!_ ” Lewis yelps, and Sip soothes the assault with his tongue.

 

“Could do anything I want.”

 

He kisses between Lewis’s shoulder blades, up, up, back behind his ear, tugs the belt to ensure he has Lewis’s attention.

 

“And you’d ask for more.”

 

“Yes,” Lewis keens. “A-anything.”

 

“Good.”

 

And he hauls Lewis upward by one, fluid, yank of the belt, lifting him entirely off his palms, but not far enough to balance fully on his knees. Instead, he falls half forward, suspended by the belt, his back arched, and Sips seizes him again by the waist, holding him just tight enough to offset some of the belt’s pressure with still the implication he could let Lewis gag for air if he so wanted.

 

Not that Lewis would fucking mind, the moan he breathes unlike any Sips has ever heard.

 

“You’re fuckin’ depraved, you know that?” He says.

 

Lewis does not respond, not that Sips expects him to, and it would be lost, anyway, to the slick sound of skin against skin as he drives into Lewis’s shivering body over and over and _over_ , exchanging his own words and taunts for deep, low groans.

 

“I’m s-s-so close, Sips,” Lewis mewls after several successive minutes of his wordless submission.

 

“Am I supposed t’care, big guy?” Sips hisses behind his ear, staying his hips flush again and snaking one of his supporting hands downward, between Lewis’s thighs.

 

“You want me t’jerk you off or something? Think you earned it already?”

 

“I want… want whatever you do,” Lewis says, voice wrecked and lost, and gooseflesh erupts down Sips’ spine.

 

He plays his faltered hand on a bluff, letting the belt slack, guiding Lewis forward again and watching him curl his arms back around the pillow, his flushed face burying itself in the down of the cushion.

 

“You don’t come,” Sips instructs. “Till I do. Got it, silk shirt?”

 

A nod, almost imperceptible, and the belt still loops around his neck, so Sips gives it a few warning tugs, simultaneously resuming an easy thrusting pace into Lewis.

 

“Think that’s more than fair the way you been acting,” he continues chiding, though struggles to conceal his labored breathing. For all his talk, his composure flags, heat ebbing in sweet shocks low in his stomach.

 

“Yes…” Lewis sighs, the words muffled, but Sips hears them still.

 

“Yes,” Lewis repeats. “Y-yes, please… please use me.”

 

It’s one thing for Lewis to give himself so readily. It’s something else entirely to hear it, hear him relinquish his body like this, for however Sips sees fit to take his pleasures. It’s fucking delicious, and Sips gladly obliges, rocking forward with a steadily harsher pace until the relative calm they’d lapsed into is but a polite formality, Sips fucking into him over and over and over again and filling the air with a melodic litany of their moans and pants and skin to skin over and over and _over_ again.

 

“Don’t fucking touch yourself,” Sips growls, and though Lewis has made no effort to wander his hand downward, he whimpers as though caught in the very act. “You still close?”

 

“ _God yes_.”

 

“Good,” Sips yanks the belt, relaxes his grip, tightens it again, all in rhythm with the shock and easing away of his building orgasm.

 

“Gonna come inside you,” he growls.

 

“Please,” Lewis begs. “God, _please_.”

 

“S’all you’re… you’re good for,” Sips pants, hips jerking mercilessly, fist pulling at the belt of its own demand and accord. “Take it so fuckin’ well. Fuck _fuck_.”

 

“Yes yes yes _yes_ …”

 

“So. Fucking. _Good_ ,” Sips groans, and thrusts forward one final time, his coherence seized in blinding pleasure as climax releases its teasing grip and he fills Lewis - hot and wet and sticky and _filthy_.

 

Filthy as Lewis finds release in this and comes, too, on a strangled cry - with nothing but Sips’ cock inside him and his own belt around his neck, no proper touch or goading. Filthy as Sips stutters his hips to savor every last aftershock, disregarding every overstimulated keen that issues from Lewis, from his spent, _used_ body. Filthy as he finally pulls out and watches his release spill down the insides of Lewis’s quivering thighs. _Filthy_ as he runs his fingers through it, leans over Lewis’s shivering, shaking form, and slips those fingers into his half parted, desperately gasping mouth.

 

“Good boy,” he murmurs as Lewis obediently sucks them clean.

 

And then the facade shatters, and, tossing the belt to the floor, Sips carefully guides Lewis from his hands and knees onto his side, stroking his palm up and down his arm, brushing the matted, sweaty hair from his forehead, slowly, gently kissing him. Despite his efforts, shivers wrack Lewis’s body as though ravaged by a chill, and Sips pulls him closer, wraps him tightly, safely in a firm, grounding embrace.

 

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

 

A nod.

 

“You sure? Kinda… kinda got a lot more rough there than I meant.”

 

“S’good,” Lewis murmurs. “Really… really good, Sips. Th-thank you.”

 

Several clever retorts clamber for the spotlight, but Sips swallows them all and instead kisses the top of Lewis’s head.

 

“Don’t ever wanna take advantage.”

 

“Never,” Lewis says, nuzzling his face to Sips’s chest and kissing his collar. “Never, never.”

 

He’s still shaking, but less violently now. This urges Sips to hold him tighter, and he does, spreading his palms in a soothing pressure wherever he can reach, kissing as much as he can.

 

“Could never be like that,” Lewis sighs.

 

“No,” Sips agrees, and knows it to be true. For all their petty fronts and seemingly shallow physicality, there’s a depth to their relationship, its fathoms impossible, and they are content in that. It’s how they are. It’s how they like it.

 

“Never like that,” Sips says, and holds Lewis until morning, and even longer, still.

**Author's Note:**

> btw, ur welcome to make requests yeet


End file.
